Part 81 (1/2)

”If a dog only barks, you call it 'rough,'” retorted Charlotte. ”I should just put that child down again, and call the dogs round her, and let her battle it out with them. They would not hurt her; there's no fear of that; and it would teach her to overcome fear.”

”Oh, Mrs. Pain!” Maria involuntarily strained her child closer to her, and Meta, who had heard the words, pushed her little hot face of distress nearer to its shelter. ”It might throw her into such a state of terror, that she would never forget it. She would be frightened at dogs for her life. _That_ is not the way to treat children, indeed, Mrs.

Pain!”

Meta could not be coaxed down again. Maria was not strong enough to carry her to the house, so Charlotte took her up in her arms. But the child would not release her hand from her mother's, and Maria had to walk along, holding it.

”You pretty little timid goose!” cried Charlotte, kissing her. ”Whatever would you do if you were to lose your mamma?”

”It would be a calamity, would it not, Meta?” said Maria, speaking half-jokingly; and Charlotte answered in the same light spirit.

”A calamity in one sense, of course. But she might get a chance then of having a little of the rust rubbed out of her. Meta, we must have some more strawberries after this.”

But Meta could not be seduced to strawberries. Maria said farewell, and led her away, bending her steps to Ashlydyat. The child was frightened still. Janet gravely a.s.sured her that the dogs would not come to Ashlydyat, and Meta allowed herself to be taken possession of by Cecil, introducing the subject of Mrs. Bond's beautiful parrot and its large cage as she was going away.

”We have heard about the parrot,” remarked Bessy to Maria. ”Susan Satcherly hobbled up here this morning, and mentioned its arrival. Susan hopes it won't scream all night as well as all day: she hears it next door as plainly as though the parrot were present there. A ten-pound note has come also, she says. Which I am almost sorry for,” added Bessy: ”though I suppose Mrs. Bond would think me terribly ill-natured if she heard me say so. She will change that note to-day, and never rest until the last s.h.i.+lling of it has been spent.”

”No, she will not,” returned Maria, laughing, holding out the note in triumph. ”She has given it to me to keep for her.”

”Never!” exclaimed Bessy in surprise. ”You must have exercised some sleight-of-hand, Maria, to get that!”

Maria laughed. ”She was in an unusually tractable humour, Bessy. The fact is, a sovereign had arrived as well as the bank-note: and that she had changed.”

Bessy nodded her head. She knew Mrs. Bond of old. ”I understand,” said she. ”Was she very bad, Maria?”

”No; not then. But I can't say what she may be before the day is over.

She brought a handful of silver out of her pocket.”

”Now, mind, Maria--don't give her up that note, let her ask for it ever so,” advised Bessy. ”Keep it until winter.”

”If she will allow me,” replied Maria. ”But she only resigned it on condition that I would return it to her if she asked for it. I promised that I would do so.”

”_I_ should not: promise or no promise,” returned Bessy. ”Keeping it would be for her good, you know, Maria.”

Maria shook her head. She could not be strong-minded, as Bessy was, acting for people's good against their will; and she could not go from her promise. She returned the note to her purse, knowing that Mrs. Bond would have it, if she chose to demand it.

Maria was easily persuaded to remain for the day at Ashlydyat. She sat at the window in the height of enjoyment. It was enjoyment to Maria G.o.dolphin: sitting there in perfect stillness on a calm summer's day.

The lovely flowers of Ashlydyat's garden, its velvet lawns, were stretched out before her: the white walls of Lady G.o.dolphin's Folly rose in the distance; and Maria sat in an easy-chair in luxurious idleness, her fair white hands lying in her lap. Meta was away somewhere, fascinating the household, and all was rest. Rest from exertion, rest from care. The time came when Maria looked back on that day and believed it must have been paradise.

Janet sent a note to the Bank, to desire George to come up to dinner with Thomas. When Thomas arrived, however, he was alone. George was out, therefore the note had not been given to him. They supposed he would be up in the evening, and dined without him.

But the evening pa.s.sed on, and he did not come. Thomas's private opinion was that George must have remained to search for the missing deeds.

Thomas could not be easy under such a misfortune--as it might in truth be called. The sum was by far too weighty to be lost with equanimity.

And that was not all: there was the unpleasant uncertainty with regard to the disappearance. Thomas mentioned the matter in confidence amongst them. At least, to Maria and Janet; the other two had gone out with Meta. Janet observed that he appeared absorbed in thought, as if uneasy at something; and he readily acknowledged that he had been rendered uneasy by a circ.u.mstance which had occurred during the day: the missing of some deeds that they had believed to be in safe custody.

”What if you cannot find them, Thomas?” asked Janet.

”Then we must make good the loss.”